Faith
by Obi the Kid
Summary: Dean POV. Tag to "The Executioner's Song". Dean wakes from his several days of rest.


**Title**: Faith

**Fandom:** Supernatural (Season 10)

**Author:** Obi the Kid

**Rating**: PG-13 (for a few mild swear words)

**Summary:** Dean POV. Tag to "The Executioner's Song". Dean wakes from his several days of rest.

* * *

"Hell…" I said. My first word since taking leave of absence from the conscious world. It's what I felt like. Hell. Everything hurt, everything ached. This wasn't right. Sleeping for days was supposed to rest the body and repair the mind. Always worked in the past. Okay, so it hadn't really, but damn it, it should. You go through hell, you deserve less hell when you wake up, right?

And why the hell is the light on and door open? I left the room dark and closed. My escape into nothingness for an eternity or so.

My head on my pillow, I managed to slide it slightly to the right. Anymore than slightly and my head might have split wide open from the throbbing pain. I did see though, far right corner of my bedroom, the reason for the light. It was purposely dim, so it didn't hurt my eyes, which was good because…well, my damn head hurt. The light shadowed him in the chair, but he was there, dozing a bit, thick book probably titled "101 Ways to Save Your Brother From Crap That Really Really Sucks" on his lap with hands folded across it.

"Sammy?" Not my voice, couldn't be. Wasn't much more than a whisper and weak and chicken-shit one at that.

It was enough though to wake my brother. No surprise there.

Thankfully he didn't charge the bed or ask me a million questions. Sam knew. He knew I wasn't right, not yet. He could see the rest hadn't helped much.

"Hey." He said and slowly made his way over, dragging the uncomfortable metal chair with him. How his big oaf of a body had slept in that thing was beyond me. My ass hurt just from thinking about it. "Hey, Dean." He said. And then, because he knew I'd ask, "Almost three days." That's how long I'd been out. Not the four days, I'd hoped, but long enough that there had to have been ah, well…issues for Sam to deal with.

"Three, huh? Awesome." I reached a slow hand to feel the sheets. Dry. But… "Sam?"

"I made sure you got up and to the bathroom. No mess. You were pretty out of it."

I must've been if I didn't remember being escorted and chaperoned to the toilet for three days.

"You took in some fluids, Gatorade mostly and sucked on some soup here and there. Enough to sustain. You don't remember any of it?"

Did I? And did I want to? I had fuzzy feelings of movement and warm something in my stomach, but I'd chalked that up to exhausted dreams. This shot that theory down. And well, it wasn't the first time Sam or I have had to go the extra mile for the other. We were all we had for a long time now. And in situations like that, you do what you gotta do.

"I guess I should stop being a lazy ass then and get out of bed."

"Yeah, but slowly, Dean. I think the stress of everything had your body doing flips, because you've puked on me twice already and I'm not aiming for a third time."

Going the extra mile indeed.

"Twice?" I thought I smelled something. Yup. Me. "Great. Just friggin' awesome. I feel like shit by the way."

"You look like it too, by the way."

It took a minute, but I managed up and off the bed with Sam's hand under my arm. Steadied, I gave him the okay to let go. Before staggering from the room, I took a glance back at the corner of the room that where I'd found him. Snacks, water, books, cell phone. Sam hadn't just checked in on me, he'd damn near lived in my room since I'd gone unconscious.

Sam, who had been a few feet ahead of me and out the door, stepped back in, catching where my eyes had been. He offered no apology for playing mother hen.

"You'd been through hell, Dean. All the times you've looked after me…"

I gave him a shadowed smile. "Yeah…thanks, Sammy." My right hand reached out and set on his shoulder as we made our way to the kitchen.

Once there, I was given the option of decaf coffee, water or Gatorade.

Just when I really needed the alcohol. And decaf? Really? Sam shot down my argument though before it ever reached my lips, "Don't even think it. No caffeine and no beer, Dean."

"I think I've earned a beer, Sam."

"You do know it's 10AM and no."

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

Sam smiled at me, glad to see me fighting him on this than not waging protest at all. _Yes, that's the spirit, Dean! _Damn little brothers.

"I do know that and you're welcome." Back turned, he started cooking up a couple eggs and few pieces of bacon in a pan. Smelled like heaven. Tasted even better. I downed every last dribble of yellow yolk as I got the scoop on the last three days. It helped the headache too.

"Anything new? Crowley come to kick our asses yet? How's Cas? Anything on Rowena's plans?"

"It's been quiet. A little too quiet actually. Then again, I've not been very active. Cas called this morning again to check on us. He's working angles and angels to try and find anything else he can on the Mark. So…keeping busy. Found a couple potential jobs for us, but I told him we were out of action for a bit."

"Sam…"

"A few more days, Dean. Humor me, okay? You know how screwy our jobs get when we're both at our best. If you're…" He gestured a hand at me.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." If I wasn't at my best, who knew what hell would break loose and I couldn't go getting my brother killed right now. After all, apparently it was my job to kill him myself somewhere down the line, right? "So, what's the plan then?"

"Shower. Rest. Sleep. Eat. Use the bathroom on your own."

"Smart ass." Although…I really did stink. "However, as I smell like every fluid under the sun, a shower would be an idea. And no, I do not need help."

Sam gave me a laugh along with a genuine smile. Genuine, but tired. No telling how much sleep he'd gotten these last three days between taking care of me, himself and research on the Mark. I got up from our small table and patted his shoulder on my way out the door. I stopped just before and we turned toward each other.

"You're looking wiped there too, Sammy. Deal is, you sleep and rest for the next few days, and I'll do the same. And then we'll get back on the road. Good?"

"Yeah. Good." I moved to leave and he called me back.

"Hey Dean?"

Back in the kitchen now, wiping a hand over my face and through my shampoo-deprived hair, "Yeah?"

"There's a way out of this. I know it. I'll find it. I promise."

There wasn't a way. Cain had shown me that. Short of ending my own life, there wasn't a way. But Sam had faith, or he was grasping at straws. More likely, he was just as terrified as I was about the road ahead. But a part of me wanted to believe so badly that there was a way, a glimmer of hope out there somewhere. A cure or a fix hiding under some rock that we just hadn't overturned yet.

My brother had faith that he could still save me.

We'd done the impossible before. But this…my doubts aside, I'd just have to have faith in my brother.

"You do that, Sammy. And…thanks for…" Every single damn thing these last few days and few weeks. Hell, the last few months.

"Yeah. It's good, Dean. We're all we've got, right?"

"Huh. Ain't we the lucky pair?" I winked and smiled and mockingly held my arms out for a hug.

Sam got up, scrunched his face in disgust and pushed me away.

"Not so lucky as to avoid a shower for too long. Damn, Dean. Go. Now. How'd I ever stay in the same room with you? Oh, man. Go, hurry. Damn it, go!"

"You don't exactly smell like roses, little brother. And to think I wanted to hug you. Ha!"

He shoved me down the hall and didn't let go until he'd pushed me into my bathroom and slammed the door behind me.

"Just for that, Sam," I yelled through the closed door knowing full well Sam was on the other side smirking, "I'm using all the hot water. Every last ounce of the stuff and you know how long this water takes to reheat. About a freakin' century and a half. You're gonna stink until Friday or Sunday…wait, what the hell day is it anyway?"

I smelled better and felt better at the end of my long shower. I hadn't quite used all the hot water. Sam would have about 5 minutes of the stuff. He'd live. Hell, he probably had his face stuffed in another lore book right now anyway; more concerned with saving my ass than his own personal smells.

And that was okay too. All the crap we'd been through, we finally got it. What this life…what _we _were all about. Each other. It's all we had. All we'd ever have.

And well, it had gotten us through the impossible before…

Huh.

Maybe…just maybe we had one more Winchester Hail Mary miracle left in us.

* * *

The End


End file.
